2013-05-21 - Sixteen Birds in Five Fighting Rings: Part 3 - Showdown in Gotham
The previous night, Gotham PD had been called out to numerous calls to Killer Croc being loose on the street, and while Croc was not apprehended, a teenage boy that supposedly he, and two men were 'kidnapping' was taken into custody - as were the two men, both of whom turned out to be men with long employment with one Roland Dagget - a man oft suspected, but never proven, of running in nefarious circles. The boy, however, absolutely refused to press any charges, and insists - in a scared sort of way, a nervous twitch, that suggests addiction, or worse, that he was going with them willingly. And, eye-witness reports suggest that Batgirl and Redtail attacked the van first. It's in an alley that Catwoman watches, and waits, near the Warehouse district, now. And she calls in over the Birds of Prey comm unit, "Nothing's going on on that other Warehouse. But, keeping an eye on it all night. Any news on the kid? Or, the goons?" Dagget, of course, had sprung for a rather expensive lawyer for his men, and they're keeping their mouths shut. And with only suspicion, rather than fact and evidence, it's likely that Gordon's hands are tied to keep anyone under lock and key. Cassandra Cain hasn't gotten any news over on the kid as she responds on her commlink, still on patrol from the day before, having not slept in the entire interim period of time in her obsessive transit, "Negative." She considers on what to do, where to go for more informatoin if the warehouse seems kaput, and they haven't talked to the kid yet. "Need higher power." There's only one person in Gotham to go to when all other sources run dry. The big cheese. It's unusual the commissioner actually joins patrol, but there he is, in the squad car, even having taken the wheel. The police presence is somewhat cranked up. Not as much as Joker would warrant, or any of the other Arkham inmates whose time in freedom tends to be directly proportional to body count, but noticeably higher than just an average night. If the lawyers ask, they're looking for Croc. The old man grumbles slightly, the youth of the patrolman in the passenger's seat and a clearly posted 'no smoking' decal putting an break to his cigar habit that it normally takes his daughter to manage. For her part, Lady Blackhawk is also on patrol...well. She's watching Dagget's place. Quietly. From a location where she will not be readily seen. "All quiet over here. Thugs...well...their employer's too rich to catch this quickly and he's got money to buy them out, but we'll get him." Absolute confiedence there. Is she aware the Commissioner's on the prowl? Likely. Oracle certainly is. After a few hours of sleep, not to mention needing to obtain a new comm unit to replace the busted one, Redtail's feeling better in the wake of being thrown by Croc. She's not yet outside, however, sticking to the hotel room for the moment as chatter picks up from those out and about. She paces inside the main room of the place, mostly in costume except for the boots and helmet, keeping the comm close to an ear. "Let me know if you need backup." Near where Gordon is patrolling, a slick fellow - Gordon will recognize him as a two-bit con, the sort whose in jail every so often, but never really spends much time there - the sort that has a rap sheet a mile long, but all for incidental crimes, mostly turning over stolen goods but never actually stealing them, or other 'hard to find' items that aren't usually lethal. His name? Johnny Five. And, a rather rich looking couple approaches him, money - and two slips of paper exchanged, the couple goes off to their car, and begins to pull away from the curb, headed to the warehouse district where Catwoman is watching one side of the warehouse, Zinda the other. And ten minutes after Selina reports in? Several cars begin to slowly gather. And not cheap cars, either. Mercedes. BMW's. A Rolls Royce. People in rich garb get out of the car, and head with silent smiles into the warehouse. "Looks like we got a party, starting," Selina says. She frowns, "No idea who, though. You recognize anyone, Zinda?" So far, she's not yet recognized anyone. "No sign of Croc, yet. Or any security. We might need to go low key, and see what's up." Cassandra Cain is slinging through the air via grappler, en route, and growls along her commlink, "How many?" She's hearing the sound of the engines along the commline, even if she's not up wtih the others quite yet. she doesn't like big gatherings. They're too easy to turn into ambushes and for the target to get away by throwing bodies at them. With a muttered curse that he left the precinct in a cruiser rather than one of the unmarkeds, Gordon just drives right past the suspicious exchange. That doesn't mean he's given up on staking out, it just means he's given up on using the car to do it. He parks around the corner, and, soon, Gordon, with a nervous patrolman at his side, is peeking around the corner, cursing elderly eyes as he watches the growing crowd. "Looks like our boy Johnny's got himself some hot merchandise." "Hrm...let's see. Not *yet* but I'm sure somebody's going to show up. Party...or maybe there's something else going on." She unhooks a pair of compact field glasses from her belt and starts to study the arriving guests in more detail. Redtail cracks her knuckles and moves to inspect spear and mace, things that didn't come into play much the night before. "Give me the location and I'll get in the air. That way I'll be there faster and should be able to surprise a few people if things go south." That leads to her donning helmet and boots, moving for the balcony door. There's a reason she got a room on the top floor of a hotel like this. A few more couples move up to 'Johnny', and exchange several bills; each retrieving pieces of paper - tickets, most likely, even to Gordon's eyes through the old man's glasses. And, several minutes later, the same cars end up showing up at the warehouse. Thirty, perhaps, now cars are parked, more coming, slowly but steadily. It's certainly no Led Zeppelin Reunion Tour Concert, but it is an event. "Thirty? Forty?" Catwoman says over the comm to Cassandra. "What do you think, Zinda? Go in all pretty, and see what's going on?" She's not unused to undercover - just, generally more when spying out a place to rob. If anyone notices Gordon, they don't seem to care but it's likely that they're too busy. And boy, is Johnny raking in the money. Then, a call comes into Gordon. "The kid? He left. We just turned our backs for a minute, Chief. He was sitting on the bench. Asked for a cup of coffee, and Ranes went to go get it. Phone rang, and I turned to answer it, and looked around and the kid was gone. I'm sorry, Chief. I just turned my back for a minute! We're already looking for him, but I don't think we're going to find him. Looks like he went down into the sewers." Oracle might very well be getting this information, too. Selina answers Redtail, telling her where the warehouse is, adding, "Stay low. Don't make a scene, yet, until we figure out what the hell is going on, Redtail. Hey - I know him. Stole a huge emerald off him, last year. He's a crooked real estate agent, has mob ties. Likes to live big. The one in the pinstriped suit, Zinda." And, Zinda will probably notice someone she got into a fight with, not too long back, that was - or is, a high-class drug smuggler that she helped put behind bars approaching from the other side. Batgirl has arrived over on a nearby rooftop, and is scanning the area. She clicks her tongue over ot activate the mouthpiece commlink, and goes, "Overwatch." Her exact position probably not immediately apparent against the skyline, but her normal roosting patterns are predictable as she starts to sweep the area from her position, staying low to the building to remain hopefully unnoticed. This many thugs don't concern her. What does concern her is that the others might deal with them bfeore she gets her share in. Gordon sighs. "He wasn't pressing any charges, and he didn't commit any crimes. We can't hold him if he doesn't want to be held," Jim says into the police radio. "Maybe we can get him cleaned up in time for the court hearing," he says, hopefully. He goes back to his stakeout, and, as the cars return, he hits the radio again. "I need unmarked cars," he says, giving the dispatcher his location. "Possible illegal activity." "Yeah, sure," Redtail answers in what may seem like a dismissive manner but it's not. She adds, "Just give me the closest landmark and I'll find it, no problem." After slipping out with her weapons, she silently soars above the streets of Gotham below, commenting dryly to the others, "You think Batman ever goes, 'Damn, I love this view,' even once in a while?" "Oh, I spotted one. Drug dealer. Other side of the entrance. Guy in the interesting hat. He's pretty high class. I'd say this is a criminal party. Or maybe an auction." Zinda stretches, but keeps her glasses trained on the gathering. "Look for where all the fancy cars are parked, in the Warehouse District," Catwoman instructs to Redtail. "Batgirl, why don't you and Zinda find a way in, over there? I'm going to see if I can't get a bit of access inside, myself." And, she slips from her protective shadows to dash across the lot between empty cars, and slips to the side of the building. The cars coming in seem to dwindle, then come to a close - perhaps sixty or seventy in all, when it's all said and done. Then, two 'goons' come out, and close and bolt the door, stand guard. Two more of Dagget's men. Redtail will spot him first - them, first, from her aerial vantage. Croc. Coming out of a sewer grate, and hauling himself up onto the pavement -- followed by, again it'd seem willingly, the teenage boy from the previous night. And Killer Croc has a shit-eating grin on his face. Meanwhile, back in Gotham on the cross streets that begin to lead into the Warehouse District, Johnny Five's business seems to be dying down, after the two requested unmarked cars and plain-clothes officers meet Gordon's request, and keep an eyeball on him. His jacket stuffed full of cash, Johnny turns and begins to head the opposite way from the corner that Gordon is on, whistling a merry tune to himself. The cars call in, "You want us to follow him, Gordon? Or should we take him in now for questioning?" Cassandra Cain gives nod. Back up Zinda. Hit things. She can do this. She slings down over to Zinda's location, following around then as seh arrives with her eyes sweeping the area as she lets Zinda take point then, the other woman having more experience with busting into locales like these. Fists up and ready. "One car follow, the other car stays here," Gordon says. "I don't think we've seen the real crime yet." With things outside calming down, he gets back into the car, buckling up and driving closer to get a better look. It'd be impossible for the observant heroines to miss him at this point. "Got it." Another clipped answer from the winged one, Redtail careful to avoid direct line of sight from the people below. She can see them much better, as well. "There are the cars, and..damn it." A beat later she shares it: "Croc just showed up from underground and that kid is with him. Doesn't even look like he's being forced. That's not good." "Back door?" Zinda suggests, moving over the rooftops to look for just such...maybe there's a loading dock, maybe there's a...oh joy...cop car... Not aware of who it is, she's only aware that she doesn't need uniforms around right now. She keeps moving for now. Loading dock, back door....gotta be something back there. As the undercover cops follow Johnny, he simply gets into his car, and begins to drive away, and heading to the opposite side of Gotham, where the police generally know he's got a roof over his head in a modest little apartment. It seems whatever activity is being done, or has been done, is over with? But, per Gordon's orders the cops continue to watch, Just In Case. "And here comes Gotham PD." She knows - or guesses, Oracle didn't call them. "Dammit." Selina uses her claws, digs them into the husk of the outer wall and scampers up, and into an open window, singing down, silently into the shadows. "This party is about to light up. I'm going to get a peek before it goes to Hell. Batgirl, Zinda, let me know when you're in, too." As Gordon approaches, Croc is also pretty observant. And he points to the door, "Get in, Kid. You got a match, dontcha? Better hurry. Looks like tonight's gunna be a short round." He smirks, and the teen runs towards the door - the two goons open the door for him, and Killer Croc turns to face the incoming car, still with that grin, that feral, dark grin on his features, almost egging on the police car - unaware that Gordon is in it, to come and meet him head on. In fact, Killer Croc is laughing. Looks like his lucid mood is waning, if he was ever in one. Zinda and Cassandra will, indeed, find an access door in the back, a loading bay that has a rather thick padlock on the outside, but that seems all that's actually keeping it closed. It's not altogether complicated to pick -- and, not all that hard to shoot off, either. The goons, meanwhile, open the door for the kid, then pull out their own guns, closing the door behind him. They're not going anywhere, or letting anyone in, it seems. Not yet, anyways. Everyone save Gordon Man! The greatest Man, Gordon Man! Following along after ZInda, Batgirl flicks her fingers up and over, considering. Then, she goes over and takes a quick swing of her fist over towards the padlock, shattering it silently down the middle then as she tugs the chains away to let Zinda take point over on inside cheerfully. Gordon knows better than to charge into an unknown situation guns blazing. That's a good way to get yourself and others killed. However, he does not like the way Croc is eyeing the car as it approaches. "Max, buckle up," he warns, adjusting his own seatbelt, more of a harness than a traditional seatbelt. Lady Blackhawk has a silencer. Shooting it off is quicker...she does that as she descends, a snap shot that most could not manage, but she does it casually. "Here's our way in," she informs the silent one, moving quietly as she approaches. The likelihood of the phut of the silenced weapon having been heard is low...but not non-existent. Eyes narrow behind those set in the mask worn by Redtail, sharpening upon the sight of the reptilian bad guy now alone down there. "I'm taking Croc. Payback's a bitch, and so am I." Whether or not the vehicle Gordon's in is en route to an impact, she's going to get there first as she goes into a dive to pick up speed, coming in at Croc from the blind side. Evening out, she leads with the mace as she winds back to slam it as hard as she can at his body. There's no comment for him, just a vicious strike. The three inside, can hear the din of -- cheering. Loud, uproarious cheering. And, faintly, through the cheering, words coming through a PA system, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the fight you've been waiting to see! He's torn apart the competition --- literally! UN-DE-FEATED! It's Roland the Raver! And his opponent, fresh from the streets of Gotham City! A newcomer, here for his very first fight! And we thought he wouldn't show --- but he's here, and ready to rumble! Glorious George!" And, the crowd - literally, goes wild. In one corner, there is a set of steps, leading down into a sub-basement. And, two more goons standing at the entrance. Zinda, and Batgirl can see Catwoman creeping up with silent, stealthy movements. Her whip cracks, wraps around one fellows neck, and her high-kick plants into the others face, before either of them can react. But, ... their time is about to be short-lived of stealth. Through the headpiece, Selina can hear the outside goons warning about the incoming Police Department - as yet, unaware there are any heroines about. And, several more head up the stairway, one shooting a 45 caliber at Selina, who just manages to roll and dodge out of the way; there's at least seven of them, and not all seem to be on Dagget's payroll - a few look shiftier. And one? One of them looks like a strange male amalgation between Catwoman with his costume, and Batman, with his utility belt, and cape. Croc isn't used to flying adversaries, and he's too focused on taking the cop car out -- Redtail's assault works, mostly, like a charm. Croc goes flying, between the power of the Mace, and Redtail's own strength -- straight into Gordon's vehicle. Hopefully they were both wearing their seatbelts, because with Croc's weight and bulk, it's pretty much like the policecar just hit a brick wall. One that bounces, and skids over the hood and stopping the car cold in it's tracks, briefly (until Croc skids off the hood) setting it up onto it's two front tires and lifting the back up high. Croc shakes his head, sneers. "Didn't learn your lesson the first time, did you, birdie? I'm done playin' games." Slowly, shaking his head to clear it, the huge monstrosity gets to his feet. Say Goodnight Gracie! The sound of the car smashing through, the racuous cheers, hit Batgirl as her eyes go wide behind her full facemask. Aw #$#!. The time for care and stealth is past now. It's time to get in there before the bodies pile up. She goes to break over inot a full sprint, her body going to a blur, intent on finding the watching thugs closest to her and smashing their skulls together like a set of coconuts. And from there just charging in to full melee, no matter who gets in the way or that it's going to totally ruin any chance of sneaking. The hit's not as bad as it could be. Gordon quickly drops the car into reverse in a move that probably has the motor pool guys wincing on behalf of the transmission. The hood gets a nasty dent, the officers jerk painfully, but even as Croc is recovering from the blow, the car is backing up. Well, 'backing'. It goes in a tight donut, getting out from under Croc and then, just as quickly, getting over him, simply driving straight over him before racing off backwards. The damage looks bad, but the reinforced frame keeps the car in fighting shape. "Do you still have that shotgun in the trunk?" Gordon asks. Redtail winces, but not from the contact she initiated. Rather, it's due to Croc hitting the car like a monster truck. She curses and begins to move as if to catch the car before spotting that it's still got some juice left, leading her to spread her wings as she hovers low while Croc gets run over with a thump. "You should watch out for traffic. You want to finish what we started last night? Fine. Come and get me." However, this time she's positioned herself close to a brick wall behind her, counting on Croc's rage to lead him into a charge. Should that happen, it'll be a simple task to rise out of the way to leave the wall waiting. Okay. Yup. Time for stealth is over. Fortunately, most of the wealthy audience members are likely to be unwilling to fight. Their security, of course, is another matter. Zinda charges in, aiming a high kick at the nearest ones. She's making note of the guy in costume. He's almost certainly the most dangerous person there. Other than her and her friends, that is. The men defending the stairwell, leading down into the din of cheering, hollering, and shouts of 'Get him!' and 'Oooooooooooooo' take aim at different targets; Catwoman tosses one of her bolas out which wraps around one thug's hands, and careens him into one of his buddies, then onto the ground. Otherwise, it's too difficult for her to get too close to, just yet, and she runs zig-zag, changing direction this way, and that, at full speed to draw their attention away. Before their aim can change direction, Zinda's in the midst of the party, and another thug bites the dust. Catman tosses a Catarang (yes, it's a batarang, shaped like a cat-head, whiskers included) towards Batgirl in the meantime, before trying a low kick towards Zinda to try and (literally) sweep the hot blonde off her feet. Croc, meanwhile, is ... well, run over. But, he's surpringly resilient. And thick headed. He might not be the most witty, or insane of Batman's adversaries, but he's certainly one of the strongest, and most tenacious in a physical aspect. He doesn't charge, instead, he gets up again, picking up the circlular fifty pound sewer grate circular disk, and hurtling it at Redtail like Batman (or, Catman) would a Batarang. Then, Croc is turning, and lumbering at a quick pace up to the cop car as quick as an alligator might onto it's prety. His huge meaty fists pound into the backend of Gordon's cop car, and begins to heft it up - possibly this going to be his next projectile missle at Redtail. So much for going for the shotgun. Below, the announcer can be heard, "And it looks like we have a winner! And, a new CHAMPION! Ladies, and gentlemen, we're having a bit of a tussle up top, my men tell me. If you'll all please use the side exits, for your safety, I'm sure your vehicles will be in good tact when you go to retrieve them. Thank you for coming, and don't forget to tune in, or attend our next venue! We're introducing - FATAL FOUR WAY!" "You're going to shoot it?!" Max says in shock. "Well I'm not going to invite it over for dinner," Gordon remarks, spinning and hitting the accelerator as Max just starts to scream, along with the tires. GO GO GOTHAM PD MOTOR POOL! The next thing on Batgirl's to-do list becomes finding said announcer and putting the microphone up a very uncomfortable orifice to be lodged that would require a gynecologist to safely remove. With that, Batgirl goes to charge in over towards the other thugs, intent on clearing them with Zinda's help and then assessing the situation if Zinda needs help with the Cat-Beast while she engages teh thugs, letting the blonde play whack a cat. Lady Blackhawk is pretty much a flurry of chopping hands and booted feet. Hey, those stiletto heels are deadly weapons. Well, not deadly, but she's certainly doing a significant amount of damage. As Catman closes on her, she makes him her primary focus. Anyone dressed oddly in Gotham (or anywhere else) is likely to be very dangerous indeed. Fortunately, so is she. "Care to dance?" she invites, trusting the others to help her if she really *needs* it. "Not as dumb as he looks.." Redtail grumbles, and it looks like the GCPD will be in need of a helping hand from the out-of-town hawk. Before that is the matter of the heavy grate sent her way like a deadly frisbee. Eyes widen behind the helmet and she ducks away from it, the wall behind paying the price. "Hey!" she shouts, moving higher and closer before winding up to /throw/ the mace with force at the back of Croc's head. Whether it's by luck, or purpose, the struck-head of the Croc causes him to turn, slightly, weave with the grip on Gordon's car - and, Croc releases the car, with the accelerator gunned, and releases it straight into the path of Redtail, before stumbling back, and putting a hand to his head, shaking it groggily, then, tripping over the offending mace that caused him the grief in the first place. Slowly, the Killer Croc gets to his feet, snarling mad, now, and as if the car wasn't enough of a threat, he picks up the mace, and hurtles it back at the Hawk who threw it at him in the first place, even if she's changed direction. Catman is - good, a martial arts expert. But, he's not Batman. And, he's no Catwoman. With the attentions of the guards, and thugs sufficiently split between the women, Catwoman lashes out her whip to pull a gun out of one thugs hand who was aiming at Zinda's head, and then runs forwards to jump onto his back, wrap her legs around his neck, and slam her fists into him, then turning, twisting to land on her feet as he crumples to the ground. Catman tosses a smoke-grenade down, much like Batman might - and, retreats into the smoke to reposition himself -- or, more likely? To runaway. The problem with this strategy is it really only works from a certain angle. And, his smokebombs aren't nearly as good as Batman's. Those on the outer edge can see him stepping out of the smokebomb, and throwing another Catarang, or trying to - and surprise Batgirl with it, while the other thugs cough, and try and get out of the smoke rendered, temporarily, uneffective. Batgirl looks annoyed over as the Catarang is thrwon at her, tracking the man through the air. The quickness of the melee is old hand for her, and she weaves her body just enough to dodge them passing by her, them likely zinging past her head by mere inches. At this point, she would leap up through the air in a striking kick, attempting to anticipate the man's dodges, having hopefully gagued the extent of his agility. Her intent was to guess how much room he had, then leap up to hopefullys trike to bring him back down to earth while he was at the apex of his jump, with the least room to maneuver and evade her strike! Gordon pulls the wheel to one side, turning hard. The car veers to the side, rolling up on two wheels, nearly tipping over before falling to the ground, right side up but rocking on the suspension. "Enough of this shit. Gun," Gordon says, and gets out of the car, rushing to the trunk to grab the scattergun. "Keep him busy!" he calls to Redtail with the tone of one confident that he'll be listened to, a commander and a leader. Oh, nice try. He needs better smoke bombs, and Zinda moves quickly, bringing her foot up in another high kick aimed to knock the catarang flying. Ideally towards a thug. That would be the best place for it. He's good, but he's not that good, and she finishes the maneuver with a flurry of blows towards his face and jaw. Yeah. He's going down. Fortunately Redtail's learned something from the night before: stay out of Croc's range. "Crap. That would've splattered most heads," she marvels, but there's no more time to think about that when the car starts toward her at a rapid speed before control is regained and more trouble avoided. "Yeah, working on that," the heroine Gordon probably isn't very familiar with answers, and her attention snaps back toward Croc when she sees what he's done. "Hey! That's mine! Give--" Oh, he's giving it back all right, and /again/ she's thankful she presents a hard target to hit as long as she's in the air. Close call though, as it passes by near enough to loosen a few of those unique feathers before it blows up bricks in another wall behind. She darts after it, intent on dealing further with Croc while he's staggered. Inside, the noise of gunfire - of fighting, is - well, mostly over. The thugs all laid out by the three little birdies, leaving an open way into the stairwell below that leads to the basement area. Selina uses zip-ties to secure everyone, as well as collect the guns, and Catman's utility belt, putting them into a convient sack she has - likely for holding pilfered items, tying it up, and telling Batgirl, "Grapple this up onto the beams, and then," she says looking to Zinda, "We're going to down to take a look." There's no more footsteps coming up, just echoes of noises beyond, but with each passing moment, the noise getting fainter, as the peanut-crunching crowd disappates. And with them, likely, more clues. Time is precious. Through a network of tunnels that inter-connects a few other warehouses, the people are exiting, and making their way to other means of transportation, not having any wish to get involved with the cops or anything else going on. Others are herded by a few figures onto a boat, which doesn't take long ot fill up, or pull away from the docks in the distance, also heading away from the scene(s). Gordon isn't the only one whose had enough. Croc has, too. He races towards Redtail, as she moves to fetch the mace, and using his barrel-like arms, slams a two-fisted blow into the back of her head as she's getting up from just retrieving the mace, and sending her into the pavement and brickwork that's collapsed. But, when she opens her eyes, she can see it, now. The damage done; the lines of blood on Croc's face, the rage - pure and feral in his eyes as meaty hands and claws reach for her again. Forgotten about Gordon. And, the mace. He just wants to crush the birdie. Cassandra Cain growls over as she glances at the crowd. they can be left to the police. She signals hre readiness to dive ina long after Selina, letting the burglaress take point as she readies to dive along after and head into the thick of things once again. Her hands up defensively to race after and doing as shown. Gordon turns to Max. "Call backup, we need a perimeter, NOW!" he says, leaving Max to do the easy, less dangerous job. He sees Croc driven into a rage and starts closing the distance between the superhuman brawl. You don't get to where he is without a heaping helping of bravery. Soon as he's closed the distance, he yells 'CLEAR!' and brings up the shotgun, letting a blast of Rock salt and buck shot in a cone towards the metahuman. "Hsss!" Redtail literally hisses as she feels a heavy impact between the wings. One lashes out on instinct but it's not enough to push Croc away. It may be a good thing he's looming over her when Gordon opens fire with the shotgun. She /might/ catch a little on the periphery, but whether it distracts Croc in his bloodlust rage or not, she snarls at him - look at her mouth! - and swings a heavy blow with the mace toward the monster's face. Croc lurches forwards at taking the shotgun blast, howling - then, careens to the left, and falls with a massive thud that actually shakes the ground, as he goes out, down, and cold. But, he's still -very- much alive. Just unconcious. How long? Nobody knows. But, for now, Gordon's - er, Gotham's safe from Killer Croc. For now. Inside, as the trio get down to the bottom of the steps, they'll see that Roulette's been prepared for this; an electrified fence, coupled with barbed wire greets them. Sure, there's an access in, but it seems to be an electric panel, operable either from the control booth across the way, or from inside. And what is inside? On the other side? An arena. A fighting pit. One that is covered in dark red stains of blood, and sand. Wooden bleachers fill either side in a curve around the ring. And the few remaining people, one of them, the drug-lord that Zinda recognized among the last to leave on the exit that is blocked to the girls. Within the ring? It looks like there are drag marks, where someone literally was hauled out of the fighting pit on the opposite side, out the escape door through the interconnecting tunnels. The door, then, is closed, and a thud of a bar being placed. But, there is evidence, at least. Blood in the sand. Footprints - small footprints, those the sort a teenager could make. Two broken syringes, inside the cage as well. Ticket stubs strewn about. A video screen above, wired to the control booth, and signs of something akin to a video feed. Certainly items Oracle could hack into - and, discover with the information and gear that was left behind in a hurry. Cassandra Cain is in a pale, hot flash then where she stands stock still. T he movement in her oh, so still. She knows what this is for. Even from the arena. Her mind is instantly retracting the steps of the fights. Of where CHILDREN were seemingly thrown over inot hte pit. Of where watchers howled with glee. Where others were made to brawl. Whether willingly or coerced. her mind automatically takes all this in and recreates it in one haunting moment as she seizes up and then it passes oh so fast as to be gone nearly instantly unless one was paying a fatally close attention to her as her body goes almost white. Gordon looks down at Croc, keeping the shotgun trained at him. He offers Redtail a hand up. "You didn't come alone," he says. It's not a question. "Are the others alright?" Already back to a knee as she prepares for another strike, the way Killer Croc goes down so hard leaves Redtail frowning. The Commissioner's hand is accepted, her grip firm as she pulls herself back up the rest of the way to circle the downed..thing. "Packs a real punch, that one. The others are inside. Not sure what the status is, but it looks like an underground fighting ring. Roulette ring a bell?" Great. Cassandra's having flashbacks or something. Zinda moves over to her, glancing around. A few people left. "Oracle, nice surveillance setup down here, can you make it your bitch?" Yeah, she did say that, didn't she. Mostly...she's protecting Cassandra right now. "Zinda, get Cassandra out of here. Get her back to the Clocktower. I'm going to get a look around, before the cops get here." She takes a small tool from her belt, a little electronic device. And, she begins to tap buttons on it, as she crouches down - but only after making sure Cassandra isn't having a seizure, and that she's just passed out. Now? Selina looks mighty pissed. But if anyone can break through that door without getting injured, she's certainly one of them. "Oracle will take care of matters on her end. Go. I won't be far behind you." It's no secret that she does /not/ want to be caught, or even seen, by Gotham PD. She's still very much on their wanted list, and any rookie or veteran would love to make a name for himself by capturing the elusive Catwoman, despite whatever good she was doing at the moment. It's a few clicks, a few taps, some adjustments on the remote device, before she plugs another device into a socket on the side. And, numbers begin to scroll, randomly. A minute later, there is a click, and the gate swings open. "You'd think they had better security." She snatches up one of the syringes, tucking it away. As well as a few of the tickets, and makes sure that in the control booth, that all the devices are 'hooked up' to the internet. No doubt Oracle will have everything she needs before the cops can cart everything away for their own perusal. It's a quick, clean sweep, that doesn't take her more than two minutes at the most. Sirens ring in the background, no doubt Max had called for reinforcements, and half - if not all, of Gotham PD comes down the streets, to protect their beloved Gordon. And, to secure Killer Croc. Selina says into the comm, "They're using the /kids/ to fight. Make money. I don't know how. But they're using /kids/. Redtail, meet up with Zinda. She's got Batgirl. Batgirl is alright, but she's passed out. Probably some psychotic break. You need to get her to the Clocktower. Oracle will know what to do." Or, so she thinks. Hopes. "I've got a few scraps of evidence. And hopefully Oracle can get some information off their computers, and feeds. We're getting closer. And they. Are going. To pay." "Not sure, I'm calling my men in," Gordon says, and, a glance to the heroine, "and women." He steps a few steps towards the car, still keeping his gun trained on the unconscious Croc. "MAX! Get Montoya and Bullock down here, tell them Croc's unconscious and we've got a crime scene." Batgirl is in a bad place. There's too much for her here. Too much, overloading. She's recreating in her mind the suffering. T he fights. Unable to stop herself. She finally brings her hand up and punches something nearby and hard. Hard. The pain snaps her from her cycle as it's like she's rebooting herself. Breathing heavily. More heavily than she would from any fight she's had to far. Nodding over at Zinda, "Thank you." Barely able to stand, though it would be near impossible to tell from her pride. Lady Blackhawk offers a hand. "Let's get out of here," she tells the young woman...she'll help her out, as she seems to be on her feet and almost functional. Best to clear the area, though. Cassandra Cain is on her feet and functional. And raging. Inside. The monsters. To have put.. Children to this. If she gets ahold of them. They will pay. Redtail stops to put a hand up to an ear, the sound of sirens and chaos around them. "Well, that's what I think we're dealing with. A bunch of rich people are paying to watch kids thrown into fighting rings, and they just split. I--" Then comes a deeper frown and she gives Croc a long look before eyeing the building the others went into. "Sorry to hit and run, but I'm needed. Hope you've got the industrial-strength cuffs for that one." Wings spread and she gains elevation, off to rendezvous with Zinda and Batgirl to see what aid is needed.